


there’s a hole in my soul (can you fill it?)

by vitane



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Healing, Light Angst, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, no beta we die like cherry, reverse renga - reki moves to canada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitane/pseuds/vitane
Summary: Snowboarding feels bleak, meaningless and it’s the last thing Langa wants to think about now.Everything changes, however,  when Reki enters his cold world and Langa, in spite of himself, offers to teach him how to snowboard.(Or, Langa is a pro-snowboarder, who’s dealing with grief, and Reki has just moved to Canada, carrying deep homesickness with himself. Together, they help each other heal their wounds.)
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 25
Kudos: 99





	there’s a hole in my soul (can you fill it?)

**Author's Note:**

> omg hello sk8 fandom how r we doing  
> ik this work seems Angsty but i promise it's not, it simply explores the theme of grieving in a different way than canon does - that's why the characters of langa and his mom may seem a bit gloomier than we know them but little by little, they will start healing c:
> 
> pls enjoy!

_Bzz bzz bzz. Bzz bzz bzz._

Langa rolls over with a groan and reaches his hand out, blindly searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He lets out a satisfied little huff when he finds it and swipes his finger over the screen before blinking his eyes open.

He heaves out a deep sigh and turns on his back, his eyes sliding to the ceiling. He stares at it blankly, knowing that he has full five minutes to brace himself to face the world before he will have to start worrying about getting to school on time.

He turns his head slightly to the side and looks out of the window.

It’s snowing so maybe not actually five.

To be fair, it seems to be always snowing nowadays. The big chunks of snow assault the ground, covering everything in a thick white coat. Langa is surprised that at this point, they haven’t been buried under the snow completely.

Maybe that would be for the better, he thinks and then immediately frowns to himself.

He used to love snow not so long ago, the mere sight of it made his heart flutter. Ever since he was a child, it was as though he was one with snow. Always anticipating it, always hoping that the period without it would grow shorter.

Snow meant snowboarding and snowboarding meant spending time with his dad.

But his dad is gone now and he can hardly bring himself to look at snow without feeling disdain. Too bad he lives in a place that only goes a couple of months without snow. Too bad his grandparents own a ski resort that is actually surrounded by snow almost the whole year-round. Too bad he’s a professional snowboarder and can’t escape snow even if he wanted to.

So many _too bad’s_ and it’s not even 8 AM.

Speaking of, Langa glances at the screen of his phone and sees that he’s definitely gone over the five minutes that he promised himself.

In moments like this, he’s glad that his mom is long gone for work so she can’t scold him. Though knowing her, she probably wouldn’t anyway.

She hasn’t figured out how to look Langa properly in the eye during dinner, she wouldn’t jump at him for being late. The same way he hasn’t mentioned how all they’ve been eating the past few weeks is take-out.

If they can’t be open about their feelings, the least they can do is let each other be. And with that in mind, Langa gets out of bed, mustering up enough strength to get through another day.

***

Langa is spacing out during English, watching the snowflakes settle on the railing outside when he hears someone mention his name, startling him in the process. He’s not often called out during this class.

He perks up and looks away from the window, just to lock eyes with someone… new.

The first thing Langa notices about the boy is his messy bright red hair, with the bangs being almost long enough to cover his eyes. What is baffling about him, though, is that he’s wearing a headband but it’s not even pushing his hair back.

The boy is looking at him with obvious curiosity as the teacher nudges him forward and that’s when Langa decides to actually listen to her.

“Reki, go on. Langa will help you understand the material,” she says, a friendly smile stretching over her lips. “Right, Langa?” She turns her gaze to him, still just as kind.

Langa nods because what else he can do and then shuffles a bit to the side to make room for Reki. The fact that they’re both Japanese, and that’s why the teacher must have assigned Reki to Langa, only reaches him when Reki’s sitting down next to him and the teacher has started introducing today’s topic.

Well, half-Japanese in Langa’s case but still. And Langa’s not the best at communicating, to begin with. Not to mention in Japanese. He can understand some of it but scarcely, he doesn’t get why the teacher assumed in advance that he may be more of help to Reki than, for example, Sharon two rows behind him.

“Hi.”

Langa turns his head to the side and meets Reki’s gaze again. He’s smiling lightly at Langa.

“Hi,” he replies, sending a small nervous smile of his own to Reki.

“Seems we’ll be desk buddies,” Reki says with warmth in his eyes.

Langa turns his gaze away, too flustered by prolonged eye contact, and murmurs loud enough for Reki to hear, “So it seems.”

***

It’s lunchtime and Langa is idly playing with his food, accompanied by other quiet kids at his usual table. They’re not friends but they help each other survive the lunch period by an unspoken agreement to always eat in each other’s company. Langa doesn’t know their names. They may know his only because he’s a local snowboarding star. Not something he enjoys and definitely not something that helped him form any meaningful connections.

He might be Langa, the snowboarder, but he’s also Langa, the kid who’s too awkward to engage in any conversation that doesn’t revolve around snowboarding. And recently he avoids talking about this topic as well. So, it’s pretty lonely for him but he finds comfort in the fact that, at least, he has someone to eat lunch with.

Langa looks up from the mess on his plate and notices Reki in the cafeteria almost instantly.

Just as Langa has those labels stuck to him, Reki’s are glaringly obvious too – the new kid. The foreigner.

But for Langa, all he is right now is lost. He can’t stand there for too long unless he wants to be noticed and his appearance doesn’t exactly hide him. The hair sticks out like a sore thumb, it’s the first thing that draws Langa’s attention. So it’s no wonder that Reki’s eyes are jumping furiously between tables. Langa notices Reki’s grip tightening on his tray the longer he looks around and for a moment, he considers asking Reki to eat at his table.

They’re _desk buddies_ and his teacher made it seem like Langa was responsible for Reki. No matter how Langa may feel about this task, he wouldn’t turn his back on it.

But before the thought can fully form in his mind and he can do something about it, he notices a girl from their grade tugging Reki in the opposite direction to Langa’s table, already chatting his ear off. Subconsciously, Langa slumps in his seat at the sight of Reki’s retreating back.

It’s not like he would actually find it in himself to approach Reki, after all.

***

He arrives home when the sun is hanging low in the sky. The tip of his nose is aching from the cold and his sweatshirt is sticking to his back when he takes his jacket off.

He doesn’t call out as he ventures further into the house, fully aware that no one will respond to him – his mom is still at work – and goes straight to his room.

He discards his backpack by the desk and flings himself on the bed. Langa doesn’t think about any of the homework he has to do. Nor does he think about how he’d normally go to his grandparents’ ski resort after school, ready to practice some new tricks or race the other child prodigy, Miya, who basically lives at the resort with his dads. That was his life before.

Now all he can do is bury himself in the blankets and recharge some of the energy before the inevitable dinner with his mom. Something that he treats as yet another tick on his to-do list.

Langa’s to-do list consists of: wake up, dread the day, pretend to be human at school and then waste away in the bedroom until mom comes home. His mom only beats him at how long she stays away from their place. Langa doesn’t think he’d be strong enough to pretend as much as she does.

His routine is comfortable. Uninterrupted. Easy.

It’s already dark outside when he hears the front door open through the daze of being half-asleep. He sits up, groggy, and tries to school his expression enough not to worry his mom. Slouching, he gets out of his room and pads towards the kitchen where he can hear his mom fumbling with the take-out bags.

He mutters a quiet _hello_ as he stands next to her and sees her smile weakly at him out of the corner of his eye.

They’re having fried rice with shrimp tonight.

The smell of food fills the room immediately when Langa opens the container to put it on plates – they’re past the stage when they were eating straight out of plastic boxes – but he doesn’t feel appetite. Eating, as much as anything else, has become a chore for him.

Going by the way his mom wrinkles her nose in distaste, the same can be said about her.

They sit by the table in the living room, across from each other, with an obvious gap in the form of an unoccupied chair to Langa’s left. Langa avoids looking that way, choosing to stare at his food instead.

“Miriam called,” his mom says, reaching out for her glass of water. “She said you’ve been sending her calls to voicemail and ignoring her texts,” she adds, her tone careful.

When Langa looks up, she averts her gaze. As expected.

Miriam is his manager, responsible for signing him up for tournaments, taking care of his image and making sure he’s not slacking off on training. She gave him a month of peace before she tried reaching out. Langa can’t blame her, her salary depends on her doing her job. He just doesn’t know how to break it to her that he hasn’t been able to look at his board, let alone get on it, since his dad passed away.

Langa doesn’t reply and the silence stretches uncomfortably over them. His mom finally, _finally_ gazes at him, her brows furrowed and this time, it’s Langa who can’t take it.

He looks back on his half-finished rice and imagines that he looks just as pitiful as the pieces of shrimp he’s scattered all over the plate.

“Do you…” his mom breaks the quiet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Langa presses his lips together. He knows she’s hurting just as badly as he is. Or even more, she lost her husband, the love of her life. And yet here he is, making it much more difficult for her.

He shakes his head.

“Alright,” she murmurs ruefully. Langa hears her take another bite of the meal and then clear her throat. “She wants to sign you up for a tournament next month.”

Langa doesn’t say, _I don’t know whether I can ever snowboard again._

All he lets out is a soft, “Okay.”

***

Miriam doesn’t wait long to send him a confirmation of his participation. Just like her other messages, Langa leaves this one unanswered. It weighs him down and he puts the date of the tournament in his calendar. Twenty-eight days for him to get familiar with his board again.

Twenty-eight days to get prepared. Twenty-eight days to deal with his own issues. Even less if he actually wants to perform well.

Does he, though?

Langa doesn’t care. If it wasn’t his job, he’d happily go without participating. But one of the things his parents have taught him is to have a strong sense of duty. Having a deadline will only make it easier for him to eventually force himself to touch his snowboard.

Right now, he’s acting as though the thing isn’t even in his room, hidden by the blankets draped over it. He’s gone weeks pretending it’s not there. He has less than a month to finally acknowledge its presence.

Langa buries his face deeper into his pillow and inhales sharply.

He knows that no one would hold it against him if he resigned, that his mom would let him step down if he only voiced it out. But he can’t bring himself to do it. Because even though he feels almost nothing about snowboarding right now, and a part of him even despises it, it’s his last link to his dad. It’s his first love.

And Langa’s both heartbroken over the fact he can’t _not_ associate snowboarding with his dad as well as frustrated that the only thing he’s ever felt passionate about is this attached to someone he lost.

Just as he’s falling asleep, Langa thinks about how much easier it’d be to snowboard again if only he wasn’t ripped to shreds each time he realised he will never slide down a slope with his dad again.

***

Reki is taking notes in Japanese is what Langa notices by the third day they’re sitting next to each other. He’s doing it fast yet his handwriting is legible enough for Langa to catch on to certain words he still remembers from the time his mom insisted on him learning Japanese.

Langa is so focused on watching Reki’s notebook be filled with characters that he doesn’t see Reki turning to him.

“It’s faster this way for me,” Reki says, drawing Langa’s attention away from the notes. There’s a bashful smile tugging at his lips.

Langa blinks at him and then looks down at his own messy scribbles. He tried paying attention up until the moment his eyes landed on the page Reki’s been writing on.

“That’s nice. I know French and English but I never got the full hang of Japanese,” Langa replies, cringing when he realises just how awkward he sounded.

But Reki only taps him on the wrist with his finger, forcing Langa to glance at him again, and smiles at him.

“I wouldn’t mind helping you out,” Reki offers, his subtle touch making something warm spread down Langa’s hand, thawing his numb fingertips out. The warmth reaches his neck the longer they simply look at each other. Reki’s still smiling when he withdraws his hand. “That is if you wanted,” he adds shyly.

The bell rings before Langa can get an answer out.

***

The thought about what he might have responded with doesn’t leave him for the rest of the day. It crosses his mind during lunch as he watches Reki join the same table he’s been eating at since day one. It gnaws at him throughout the remaining classes and keeps him company as he drifts off out of consciousness after getting back home. It settles around him during his awkward dinner with mom and lulls him to sleep.

It’s been a long time since anything has filled his mind to this point. At first, he can’t figure out why Reki’s loose proposition is sticking with him so strongly. And he doesn’t realise it until the next morning when he has to drag himself out of bed again.

It’s the mere idea that Langa could be seen outside of snowboarding. Outside of the shadow of his dad’s death.

All Reki saw was a kid who didn’t know Japanese. Not the gaping hole that Langa has become.

***

Langa’s grandparents are the opposite of his mom. While she struggles to connect with him ever since his dad’s death, they have no such qualms. Langa would even say that they’re more persistent about keeping in touch with him than before. And so, despite his routine and how drained he is after each day at school, he promises to visit them at their resort.

That’s how he finds himself trudging towards the bus stop close to his school one snowy day, dreading the next few hours when he will have to act like he’s okay.

He stops dead in his tracks, however, when he catches the sight of Reki right outside the premises of the school.

It’s been a few days since Reki’s offer to help Langa with his Japanese and neither has brought it up again. Langa’s shyness hasn’t truly let him speak to Reki more aside from their usual greetings. But each time they sat down next to each other, a small ember of hope that Reki would turn to him and say something glowed inside of Langa.

Langa doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because Reki’s the first person in so long who doesn’t seem to have any ideas about Langa. Who smiles at him because he wants to, not because he’s that snowboarder whose dad died. Whatever it is, Langa finds himself looking forward to seeing Reki every day. To maybe exchanging a few words again. It’s the first time he feels something more than ever-consuming emptiness.

Right now, Langa watches Reki struggling with something on the ground, hard to be seen from the distance through all the snow around. He notices lines of frustration stretching over Reki’s features.

He doesn’t mean to stare and he’s just about to keep going on about his life when Reki looks up and finds his gaze. Langa feels embarrassment at not being fast enough to look away but when he notices something akin to relief slip on Reki’s face, he relaxes.

Much to his surprise, Reki waves at him.

Langa’s eyes widen but he reluctantly waves back. Then, Reki beckons him closer.

Langa’s walking towards him before he can even make a decision.

When he’s only a few metres away, his eyes fall to the ground and he discovers what Reki’s been fighting against earlier. It’s a worn-down skateboard. One of Reki’s feet is on top of it, pathetically pushing it back and forth. Its wheels are clumped with snow.

When Langa looks up, Reki’s face is sheepish. But the thing Langa focuses on more is the fact that Reki’s jacket is thin, not fully zipped up and his hands are turning red from the cold.

Reki doesn’t have a scarf either. To make matters worse, instead of a warm hat, he’s got a snapback on.

Langa sends him a bemused look but he doesn’t say anything. 

“I get here by bus but, y’know, I’d always skate. Back home, I mean. Thought I’d try it here, too,” Reki explains, awkwardly scratching at the side of his neck. The fact that Langa can even see his neck in this weather doesn’t make sense.

“But you’ve seen the streets,” Langa says helplessly, his eyebrows pinched. It’s not like Reki hasn’t been here for at least a week. Probably longer.

Reki shrugs and then sniffs.

“I still wanted to try.” He looks down at his board. “I miss it,” he adds wistfully. This is when Langa sees it for the first time. When Reki’s smile slips away for a few seconds. These three words carry so much sadness, Langa feels like he might drown in it. For these few seconds, he notices a bit of himself in Reki’s remorseful expression. But Reki must be a much better actor than Langa, always managing to put on an easy smile.

Langa opens his mouth to say something but Reki lets the moment go away when he beams at Langa once again. He’s almost good enough to hide the sadness completely. Almost.

His eyes are still brimming with it. But Langa might be projecting. He may be reflecting his own emptiness on Reki’s face.

“Anyways, seems like it was a stupid idea. Damn, is it always snowy here?” Reki asks, scrunching his nose up.

“No, only from November to mid-April,” Langa deadpans, remembering how he’d always count days until November and then wait each day for the first snow to fall. Now, he can only wish that April would come sooner.

Only three more months to go.

Reki’s sudden bark of laughter startles Langa out of his thoughts.

“Man, you’re funny,” Reki lets out, shaking his head.

Langa is stunned by the outburst but not put off. Just a bit baffled because he didn’t say anything funny. Or, at least he doesn’t think so? He simply shared what he knows to be true.

“Are you taking the bus?” Langa asks to change the topic, feeling oddly hot all over.

Reki picks his skateboard up and tucks it under his armpit, but not before he gives it one last bitter glance.

“I don’t have much of a choice. Imagine walking in this weather,” he says and scowls.

Langa snorts. Yeah, imagine doing that if all you’re wearing is a summer jacket.

“What about you?” Reki asks.

“Not usually,” Langa replies. They stare at each other. Langa realises that he should follow this up. Awkwardly, he supplies with, “I’m visiting my grandparents today.”

Understanding slips on Reki’s face and he nods vigorously.

“Do you wanna ride together?”

Langa notices eagerness on Reki’s face. And it catches him off guard. He can’t fathom why Reki would be so happy at the prospect of spending time with him.

Even though Langa himself feels slightly hopeful.

“We should check if it’s the same bus,” Langa says.

As it turns out, it’s not. They go in opposite directions and Langa could swear he saw a tinge of disappointment flash across Reki’s face when they found out.

Langa doesn’t know what prompts this but he offers quietly, “Maybe next time?”

The offer is just as empty as Reki’s one regarding Japanese. Langa doesn’t need a bus to get him home and Reki will always live on the other side of the city. But it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? And Langa feels the need to compensate.

So an empty offer it is.

Reki catches his gaze, seems to realise the same thing as Langa, and then smiles brightly at him. Most likely being the warmest point in this snow-coated world right now.

Langa returns the smile, not as strongly, but still there.

They stay quiet until the time for their buses to arrive comes. Right before Reki can hop on the other side of the street to catch his, Langa stops him by tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. Reki blinks at him in surprise, but instead of saying something, Langa simply takes his gloves off and offers them to Reki.

Reki stares at them in confusion and Langa presses them firmly to his chest.

“It’s too cold to walk around without gloves,” he murmurs. He can always borrow a pair from his grandparents, they have a stock of them from the guests that forgot theirs at the resort. Reki, on the other hand, looks like he needs them more. “You might get sick if you don’t wear proper winter wear,” he adds, averting his gaze.

“Oh,” Reki lets out and finally curls his fingers around Langa’s still pressing against his chest. Just as expected, they’re stone-cold, sending shivers down Langa's spine. “Thank you. I’m still getting used to the cold,” Reki says, taking the gloves from Langa.

Langa retreats his hands and shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

“See you at school, Langa,” Reki adds, his gentle tone making Langa look up.

Langa feels warmth again.

He feels it still even when his grandma points his bare hands out, nagging him for being irresponsible.

**Author's Note:**

> any kind of feedback, be it kudos or comments, is appreciated! i rly wanna know what u think  
> i think the fic may have around 6 chapters but it can change. the updates should be regular, every sunday unless smth pops up  
> if u found any mistakes pls let me know!  
> u can find me on [tumblr](https://b1sexual.tumblr.com/)


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